


Whatever floats your boat

by GCST45



Category: IT (2017), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Alternate Universe - No IT (King), Biphobia, Bisexual Richie Tozier, F/M, Gay Eddie Kaspbrak, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Sexual Abuse, Underage Drinking, Underage Drug Use
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-16
Updated: 2018-04-03
Packaged: 2019-03-19 14:39:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,991
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13706535
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GCST45/pseuds/GCST45
Summary: When they were fourteen years old, Richie climbed through Eddie’s window with the excuse of having another secret sleepover and they had the longest conversation in their friendship history instead. He got tangled in what he was trying to say a million times, went forwards and backwards in his explanations too much and even cried a bit. But at the end, it was clear, and Eddie understoodAt the age of fourteen, Richie Tozier was impossibly aware of the fact he was gay. Then, why did he start dating a girl when he turned seventeen? And why was Eddie so mad about it?





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, everyone! This is the first longfic I post, so I hope you like it. Please, keep in mind this contains a bit of internalized homophobia and biphobia, and if that's is not your cup of tea or if it pulls a trigger for you, you probably shouldn't read it. Also, some Billverly mentioned in this chapter, but it will not be a big deal in general terms and, even if I've only seen the movie and the miniseries, I don't headcanon Richie's parents as purely abusive persons, so please don't freak out at their names here. Well, I have nothing more to say, hope you like it! :)

**Derry, Maine; 1990.**

It was like something told him he had to let his window unlocked. A certain presentiment that, if he did locked it, a horrible thing could happen. And of course this weird feeling wouldn’t reveal what it really was, but it instilled itself in his guts, turning around his body and making him think he was getting sick. So he decided to pay attention to it. A spiritual connection with the universe that gives you premonitions is always better than having Sonia Kaspbrak being paranoid about your health.

So he didn’t close the window that night. It didn’t matter that it was winter and he could freeze to death if the wind got into the warm nest his bedroom always tried to be. It didn’t matter if his perfect, all-American town suddenly decided to become dangerous, or if all plagues in Derry could invade his sanctuary. And with all those surreal, not-so-impossible fears, he got in bed, put his sheets over his head and tried to sleep.

Richie arrived around three in the morning —accompanied by the usual, loud noises he would make after tripping over every object that he couldn’t see in the darkness—, and Eddie was a little disappointed. Richie’s visits were never surprising, but rather expected at that point, and Eddie felt like his friend was interrupting a ritual, showing up when he was supposed to be receiving a bizarre, mystical mission or something.

“Richie, what the hell are you doing here?” He asked, looking at him under the pillow he had put over his head. “I told you a million times you shouldn’t come while my mom’s sleeping.”

Richie started walking around the room, touching every personal object he could get, without showing much interest in the conversation.

“Chill out, Eds” He absently said, moving the arm of one of Eddie’s old action figures that was sitting on his desk. “Your mom loves when I wake her up with…”

“Shut the fuck up!” Eddie hissed, getting out of bed and quickly walking towards him, taking the doll away. “And don’t touch that.”

But his warning went ignored; Richie had soon found his way to Eddie's bookshelf and began searching through his collection of comics.

“Fuck, you’re starting to sound like you don’t want me here” He sighed, feigning hurt.

“I don’t want you here! Stop touching my fucking comics. I saw you eating a chocolate ice cream today and I bet you didn’t even wash your hands after finishing.”

“I’ve done worst things with my hands without washing them after.” He opened a comic featuring a rather unknown superhero, flipping quickly and carelessly through it's pages. “Like, do you remember last week you let me borrow your math book? When I got home I—”

“I don’t want to know,” Eddie quickly interrupted.

“Fine.”

For the next fifteen minutes, Eddie just sat on his bed and watched Richie explore his bedroom. He wasn’t very happy with the idea, but he knew the annoying kid wouldn’t leave until he got bored, and calling him out for every time he almost dropped or broke something was an imprudent thing to do, with his mother sleeping in the other room and Richie exhibiting very little care for that fact.

He also had this feeling that wouldn't let him be; it kept getting stronger as Richie's actions grew more and more careless.

However, Eddie wasn't exactly brimming with patience, so when Richie's attention faltered, he resolved to bring order into the chaos.

“If you want to have a sleepover, get in the fucking bed,” he firmly stated. “I’m tired, it’s a school night, and mom will kill us if she finds out you’re here.”

He thought Richie would laugh it off, make a stupid joke and persist on the task of irritating him. Instead, Richie threw him off by freezing where he stood, seemingly petrified, every moment he remained still allowing a charged energy to drip into the cold, dead space between them.

Eddie waited for Richie to say something, but the only thing he could do was turn around and soundlessly go and take a sit next to him. He was exceptionally quiet as he looked down and intertwined his fingers over his lap, absorbed by the way his thumbs rubbed against one another.

“Rich…?” Eddie whispered, almost reaching out to touch his shoulder.

He could barely see his face. The whole room was in darkness and the lights of the street getting in through the window were the only thing that could pierce the blue obscurity. In addition, Richie’s huge glasses didn’t do a good job exposing how he was really feeling, but they couldn’t hide how he bit his lower lip for a second, in a hardly perceptible instant, or the fact that he gulped merely a second later.

“I’m not okay, Eds,” He mumbled, as if the words physically hurt to get out.

Eddie stared at him in a respectful silence, encouraging him to elaborate. But all Richie could do was adjust his glasses and repeat “I’m not.” Maybe he thought the first time he said it wasn’t enough of a clue as to how much pain he was feeling.

“What do you mean?” Eddie asked, his voice exceptionally low and careful, moving so that they were only a few inches apart. “Are you… are you feeling bad? What are your symptoms? You could be—”

“I didn’t mean it like that, you idiot.”

Eddie immediately felt like the biggest jerk in the world, his panic vanishing and finally letting him breathe.

“Oh,” He exhaled. “Well that’s good news.”

Except it wasn’t. It wasn’t good news at all because it meant Richie wasn’t suffering physically, but internally. And that was something he couldn’t cure with any medicine, nor supplies from his fanny pack.

What made it even worse was knowing firsthand how upset Richie got when he was emotionally vulnerable. It happened under rare circumstances, but no matter how unbearable the pain was, he would always find a way to laugh it off, to take weight out of the problem, to make a joke out of it. That was his defense mechanism, and it tended to work right for him. If humor wasn't helping and he had to recur to Eddie at such an ungodly hour in desperate need to talk, it meant the pain had become too much, and reality had begun to set in.

“I…” Richie started. “Look, I’m not feeling well, Eds. But it’s not like a stomachache or that thing your pickle does when you hadn’t tickle it in a long—”

“Okay, I get it! Just get to the point, please.”

“It’s like… here.” He touched his temple, too serious to be himself.

“In your… head?”

Richie stared him in the eye for the first time. He looked deadly serious and Eddie could almost swear he was about to cry.

“In my mind,” he concluded.

The more Richie spoke, the more concerned Eddie became. Not only worried about his friend’s health, but also his own. Mental illness was a dangerous topic, he knew from his mother. He didn't understand why Richie would ever think of himself as mentally ill. Sure, he was obnoxious and had the worst sense of time and place ever, but Eddie had never considered the possibility of his best friend being a sociopath. He couldn't even imagine how Richie could think like that. He was always so open and irresponsible, the dots just didn't connect.

“Is it… is it something your parents told you?” He dared to ask, just to test the waters. “Your parents told you you were… sick?”

The other boy looked like he was about to laugh out loud and for a second, Eddie thought he had broken the spell.

“Nah. They wouldn’t say something like that. They might think it, but they wouldn’t tell me.” He seemed to be really casual about it, but he didn't take much time returning to his serious exterior for the conversation at hand. “It’s just… something I know, you feel me? It’s something I know it’s happening to me and…”

Richie took a deep breath and when he spoke next, his voice sounded small and powerless.

“I’m sorry,” He said, staring at his feet. “I shouldn’t have come here, it was… It was a stupid thing to do. So fucking…” He quickly cleaned his nose with his sleeve, and Eddie made an effort not to call him out on it. “So fucking stupid, huh? I should have told… fuck, I shouldn’t tell anybody. Nobody needs to know. But… but Wentworth said this super stupid thing today, right? And I—”

“You call your dad Wentworth?”

“He calls me Richard, what I’m supposed to call him? Pops?”

Eddie exhaled.

“Right, sorry. So he…”

“Right. So, Bev was there. We were just… being the coolest cats in town, as always, and doing dumb shit. And I told her a super funny joke and she got so disgusted, it was hilarious. And, after an hour or so, she left. And I was just fine ‘cause she’s pretty badass for being a girl and I like hanging out with her. But then, at dinner, my father told me he had heard me telling that super funny joke and that I shouldn’t say shit like that.”

“I can’t imagine your dad saying ‘shit.’”

“Fuck, Eds, you’re such a sucker for details. Okay, he didn’t say ‘shit,’ he used a snobby word, but as soon as I got it I was like ‘I always say shit like that, that’s my fucking game.’ And then he went: ‘Richard, if you keep that attitude up, you’ll never…’” Richie obviously tried to do a stern, standard 50’s dad impression, but he was too upset to succeed, so he gave up on that plan, “Anyway, he told me… he told me I’d never find a black jungle to have breakfast at, you know? And I was like ‘what the fuck.’ ‘Cause Bev is my friend and I… I wouldn’t fuck her, right? She’s like my sister or something, and Bill’s banging her, and Ben wants to bang her, so… that was kinda uncalled for and I told him that.”

“And what did he say?”

“Well, long story short, we had a fucking serious fight and he ended telling me —sorry, ‘gently asking me’— to go to my room. And then Maggie tried to speak to me but she only made it worse and I told her to fuck off, ‘cause it sucks to have her pretending she cares.”

“I’m sure she cares, Richie…”

“Whatever, I got so fucking angry and then I sneaked out and came here.” He sadly shrugged, “It’s silly, I guess. They just want me to get a wife and give them grandchildren they can take out to the opera or intellectual bullshit like that. I just… I couldn’t help but make a big deal about it.”

Eddie nodded.

“That’s why you think you’re sick?” He questioned, laying an affectionate hand on his back.

“No, Eds…” Richie answered, establishing visual contact. All the pain and doubt was there again, as he rejected the touch with a subtle move of his shoulder blades. “I thought about it. And I… I think I understand.”

“You understand? What… what do you understand?”

Richie licked his own lips and left out a heavy breath. He was clearly in a combat against what was going on in his head.

“I’m different, Eddie.” He almost sobbed.

Perhaps what Richie had been saying made perfect sense to the boy himself, but Eddie couldn't put his finger on it.

“Different? How…? What do—”

“I’m fucking different!” He snapped. His friend jumped and hysterically shushed him, afraid of his mother finding out he had company, but he wouldn’t listen. “I’m different! I’m different from you, I’m different from the other Losers, I’m different from this whole fucking town! Don’t you get? I’m not like Bill or Ben. I don’t want to fuck Bev, I don’t want to fuck any other girl, I don’t…” He ran a hand over his face, skin glinting with the thin sheen of sweat. “I don’t want girls. I just don’t want them.”

After his dramatic declaration, he became silent.

Eddie found himself having a difficult time processing what he had been told. In their group, Richie was always the one to say filthy things about women. He was the one who always tried to get the others to read the dirty magazines he somehow managed to get. Magazines full of suggestive eyes under long eyelashes, wavy and shining haircuts and infinite legs flexing and stretching in ways that seemed impossible for average people. Glossy lips and nipples carefully sketched under small swimsuits.

That was Richie’s world, ever since they learned boys and girls didn’t have the same body parts. The repulsive, demon child who would watch the static of his television portraying suggestive material made specifically for men with hungry eyes and lustful thoughts. Who would brag about watching it every night when his parents were asleep, even when the family cable service wouldn't allow the channels without extra charges. The boy who claimed to be the first one to ‘tickle the pickle,’ like it was an honor.

How could someone like that not be interested in girls at all? Of course he had troubles talking to real-life ladies, and he would occasionally speak badly of them, and he wasn’t too excited of Beverly joining the club when they first met, but none of that mattered.

It didn't matter because Richie was looking at him as though he was in front of a judge, a judge who would sentence him to the ultimate punishment if proven guilty. As though he'd just admitted to his crimes. And —no matter how scared and disgusted he was— Eddie wouldn't let his friend believe that.

“It’s okay, Rich” He muttered, forcing a comforting smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.

Richie shook his head. At that point in their friendship, he could almost read his mind. So he knew Eddie was lying. It wasn’t okay. If he himself could tell how wrong it was, Eddie really was in the middle of a damn crisis.

“It is,” Eddie repeated, trying to pacify Richie and his own prejudices.

Think about what would happen if you were sick, he told himself. If you had a serious health problem and mom turned her back at you. If she left you alone. You can’t leave your best friend alone in this. You need to be strong.

“I’m a weirdo, Eds,” Richie whimpered, “I’m the kind of guy I used to tell jokes about. I am the joke.”

“No, Richie. You aren’t.”

“Yes, Eddie! I am! It’s time to face it, ‘cause I can’t keep denying it. And I know coming to you with this was the stupidest thing I’ve ever done, but I can’t tell anybody else. Sorry if it freaks you out, sorry if you’re going to wash yourself ‘til you look like a beet and burn the clothes you’re wearing after I go, but I don’t fucking care anymore. I just want someone to tell me what to do.”

Eddie didn’t have an answer. It was his mother who knew what to do with these type of problems, but he assumed Richie would rather die than ask her.

“What am I gonna do now?” His friend demanded to know. “I can’t… look, I don’t want you to get the wrong idea. I’m single as fuck and I don’t want to get into anybody’s pants, but someday I will. Someday people will find out. What I’m gonna do then? Like, I know Wentworth and Maggie aren’t… y’know, bad people. But this? They don’t need to be actual assholes to kick me out.”

“Yeah, you shouldn’t tell them,” Said Eddie, thoughtfully. “You shouldn’t tell no one else. Did you tell anyone else?”

“No. You’re the only one who knows.”

“Okay, let’s keep it that way. Don’t tell anybody.” He stood up and started walking around, one hand on his chin and the other tapping his outer thigh, tracing a strategy. “This can happen. It’s… I don’t think it’s your fault. Mom says it happen when parents don’t talk to their children enough and then they get confused. It’s just…”

“I won’t grow out of it, if that’s what you’re trying to say.”

“Of course you won’t. Not on your own, but—”

“No, Eddie. I won’t. It’s… it’s always been a part of me. Always.”

Eddie stood still and turned around to look at him.

“Always?”

Richie confidently nodded.

“Since I can remember.” A sigh left his mouth, “That’s why I’m so… I don’t wanna be… cured or whatever.”

He abandoned his seat and walked towards Eddie. His eyes seemed to be asking for a solution he didn’t want to hear. He was sure Eddie could come up with something, or even get him one of his mother’s pamphlets about therapies with names he couldn’t even pronounce, but it wouldn’t work. And it hurt both of them.

“I’m so fucking scared, Spaghetti Man,” he breathed, looking at him like an animal with an injured paw, staring innocently at its rescuers after a life learning to fear humans. “I don’t want this, but I don’t want to give it up either. I don’t… shit, I don’t want to be the gay kid in town. I don’t want to be the joke for the new funny dude. I just… don’t.”

“Don’t say shit like that, Richie,” he seriously commanded. “You’ll never be what you’re saying. You can be the funny dude, the unfunny dude, the pain in everyone's ass, the king of the losers, but you’ll never be just ‘the gay kid in town’. There’s no way I’ll let that happen.”

“But—”

“No, you fucking listen to me. To you, am I just ‘the asthmatic kid,’? When you see me coming, do you think ‘oh, there's the kid with asthma?’ Do you think... I don’t know, Bill thinks that when he sees me? Or any of the other Losers?”

“Of course not, Eds.”

“That’s right, ‘cause I’m not my asthma. I’m a person besides having asthma. A person with cancer doesn’t become the cancer. The people who care for them still see them as a person; a person with cancer. So, yeah, you have a disease, right, but you’re not your disease. Even if you decide to never do anything about it, you’re still Trashmouth, and the fact you’re disgusting doesn’t have much to do with what you like between someone’s legs.”

Then, it happened. Richie laughed. And Eddie had the fleeting thought that, if he could always make Richie laugh like that, so quiet and genuine, there was nothing he wouldn’t do.

“I have taught you right, my young pupil,” Richie joked.

Eddie smiled and gave him a playful punch in the arm. As gentle as it was, the other boy complained dramatically and rubbed the area. It was nice to see he could still feel pain, just like anybody else.

“You’re different, Richie. But we’re still best friends,” He commented honestly.

They stared at each other for a few seconds, but they we’re soon interrupted by sounds that came from the corridor.

“Damn, that’s my mom,” Eddie whispered, looking at his locked door, “You really have to go now.”

“Oh, right.”

They both ran to the window, making sure Richie haven’t dropped anything. A cold wind rushed from the outside and soon, they found it had been raining and the streets were wet and slippery.

Eddie waited for Richie to start climbing out, but he just stood there, his arms hanging at both sides of his body.

“What’s wrong?” Eddie asked.

Richie seemed really embarrassed.

“Well, this is gonna sound pretty fucking gay and I know I’m… a person with gayness now? But still… like, as a totally straight bro, can I… can I hug you?”

For an instant, Eddie was taken aback. He could stand having a gay friend, especially if it was someone he had known since they were only toddlers, but, physical contact? His mother would drop dead if she discovered it, and he didn’t want to do anything that could get his well-being in danger.

However, when he saw Richie was on the verge of tears and he remembered how his parents weren’t being very understanding, he decided to convey. Even if it was something he didn't necessarily want, he also didn't want Richie going to bed sad.

“Holy shit, that was so—” Richie started.

“Yes, you can. Of course you can.”

His best friend's eyes widened at his permission, though he hesitated for a moment before closing the space between them and wrapping Eddie in a warm hug.

At first, Eddie didn’t respond. He still knew this kind of behavior was unacceptable and he was so afraid of risking his own reputation just to make someone who didn’t even want help feel better. But then he felt Richie’s fingers clinging to his t-shirt and the freezing pressure of his glasses against the side of his neck, and every negative emotion went away.

He hugged back. Their hug only lasted a few brief seconds, but it was reassurance, and that was enough that Eddie was sure Richie would never feel bad about himself, enough to know that he didn't have to tell jokes and do stupid things, that Eddie liked him the way he was. He liked to think about it as a gift to the world. If he didn’t hug Richie Tozier that night, all the brightness and the jokes and the warm nonsense of eternal childhood would die. It was his responsibility to save that flame.

“Okay,” Richie said when they separated, adjusting his glasses, “I’m good. Sorry for… for that. Guess you’ll have to burn those clothes after all, huh Eds?”

Eddie rolled his eyes and smiled.

“Just go home, Trashmouth.”

“Fine, fine, I’ll go,” He climbed through the window and shivered at the cold air, “Shit, I know your mom will be super angry when she finds out I can’t give her what she wants, but—”

“Go home!”

When Richie finally made it to the ground, Eddie didn’t close the window immediately. He still had something to say.

“Rich!” He called.

Richie looked up at him with a confused expression.

“What now?”

“Be careful please,” he solemnly requested, “Just… stay safe, okay?”

The kid smiled and nodded, mounting his bike and riding away into the darkness.

A sudden peace invaded Eddie. The evident answer was that he was warning Richie about how frequent accidents were while driving —or riding a bike— after a storm, even if it was a small one. But deep down, they both knew he meant to warn him of something else. He was referring to all the horrible stories they'd heard, be it from school or from relatives. And he was so glad Richie understood.

He went to bed only when he couldn't see him anymore, and, paying no mind to what he had said, half joking and half serious, he didn’t burn his clothes. On the contrary, he laid there, absolutely aware of Richie’s smell on his t-shirt, and took a deep breath, because now it was clear: he wasn’t his asthma.

As his mind slowly faded away into unconsciousness, the last coherent thought he could build was that he would never let anyone make Richie feel like ‘the gay kid in town.’ Not even himself.


	2. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey there! First of all, I'm sorry I took so much time before updating. I'll try to improve. But most importantly, if you haven't read the recent additions to the tags, please be aware there's underage drinking, underage drug use and implied sexual abuse in this chapter. And the sexual abuse topic will stick around in this story. Nothing too graphic, don't worry, but if you've been through a similar situation and think it'll put you in a bad place, probably you shouldn't read this. I feel so much respect for sexual abuse victims, I think y'all are so incredibly strong, and believe me when I say I'm trying to write about it with all my heart and mind put on it. If you see something that is badly portrayed, please let me know. Remember that I'm trying to keep the characters in character, and that, sometimes, gives the wrong idea. I promise I'll do my best to not make of it an average teenage drama, because I understand how serious it is. I'm doing my best and I hope it's right.
> 
> So, long story short, THERE'S IMPLIED SEXUAL ABUSE IN THIS CHAPTER, AND IT'LL BE AROUND FOR A WHILE. PLEASE, BE CAREFUL.

Chapter 1

Derry, Maine; 1990-1991.

 

After that night, it was never discussed again. When Eddie arrived to school the next morning and saw Richie, talking with Beverly as they had a secret behind the signal at the front of the building, he just cleared his throat like he always did to call their attention and rolled his eyes when his friend jumped and turned around, hiding something behind his back and looking at him with the guiltiest expression possible. Bev exhaled an incredulous laugh while obviously putting a box of cigarettes in her backpack.

“Fuck, Eds,” Richie gasped when he realized it was just him, “You can’t just appear like that…”

Eddie didn’t dignify that with a positive answer.

“You’re gonna die before you’re thirty if you keep that up,” He seriously warned, instead.

Beverly giggled behind her friend and announced they had to go to find the others before the bell rang, probably trying to avoid them getting on a stupid fight. As they walked towards the front steps —where Bill and Stan were having their own conversation—, Richie discretely stared at Eddie, looking for some kind of confirmation that the surprise visit of a few hours ago really happened, that they really had that chat.

Showing that weird telepathy some friends share, Eddie solemnly nodded and put his index finger against his closed lips, writing the unspoken rule that would turn into a problem years later.

But right then, it was all Richie needed. So he imitated the gesture and the pact was sealed. They said hi to their friends and soon the rest of the group joined. They sat together at the school cafeteria, just a couple of inches farther from each other than usual. It took them only a week or two to learn how to do everything with an extra space between them. Maybe three weeks for the other Losers to stop asking them about it and just accept it.

Eddie himself stopped questioning it. Because as long as they could stare at each other, even if they were on opposite sides of the room, and do their secret signal, nothing had to be questioned. Nothing had to be said out loud.

* * *

When they were fifteen, Richie and Beverly managed to get access to a college party. Actually, it was her who got the privilege. As she grew older, she started to want things their small group of friend couldn’t give her. She needed someone she could talk to about boys and make up and hormone changes. She needed someone to do her hair and paint her nails and help her deal with broken hearts.

Of course she had her aunt, but the lady, as good as she was, seemed to barely remember what it was like to be a teenage girl. And girls at school wouldn’t let her step into their world. Because, after all those years, she couldn’t get rid of her past —or the past other people had created for her—, and still could hear people talking at the corridors.

“There goes the slut and her harem,” Some of her classmates would dare to say, when she walked around with the other Losers.

To make things worse, there was the fact that one of the meanest girls at school had entered to the female bathroom and saw her hanging out with Richie then. The part of the story that said they were only smoking and talking got completely untold and it didn’t take too long for the whole town to accuse her of ‘sucking Trashmouth off’.

So Beverly started to talk with college students. She liked them because they didn’t judge and they didn’t care for high school rumors. Kind, smart people, just like her, who liked to joke and do silly things and fighting for their rights. It was all she ever wanted, and the ‘college kids’ —like Richie called them— enjoyed her company because she was mature, both mentally and physically, and her outsider nature seemed amusing for them.

That summer, she was invited to lots of their parties and, after having a hard time convincing her older friends, she was allowed to get guests of her own.

At first, it was just Richie. Being at his ‘all-grown up’ phase, wanting to disobey his parents and prove he could be as cool as the cool guys at their school, he completely melted into this new world. Everyone loved him because of his irreverence and how funny he was when he got high. Soon, Bev’s friends were his friends, too, and he also had their blessing for bringing more people into the group.

The first one he asked was Eddie. It wasn’t clear if he knew that Bill, Stan, Mike and Ben wouldn’t be interested, or if he was just trying to be a good best friend, but he was pretty sure he wanted Eddie to go with them. And he had to beg, threaten, apologize for threatening and beg again until he could persuade him.

“I promise you’ll have fun.”

“Being in a fraternity house full of drunk monkeys grinding against each other and puking everywhere isn’t my idea of ‘fun.’”

“It won’t be like that.”

“It’s always like that, Richie. Always.”

“But you’re gonna be with Bev and me. We won’t let all those party animals get their dirty hands on your delicate body.”

“What I’m gonna tell my mom?”

“That we’re having a sleepover.”

“She hates you.”

“Sleepover at Bill’s, then!”

“No.”

“Yes.”

It was two weeks of non-stop insistence, but it worked and Eddie finally agreed to go.

Just like he predicted, the house was a mess. Not even the grass and the flowers at the entry, healthy and well-kept as they seemed, could hide the evident fact that the people who lived there weren’t taking tertiary education because they cared about their future, but because high school was a party for them and they wanted to take it to the next level.

And when they were in, it proved to be all that Eddie was afraid of. Rap music hurting his ears and a thick fog of forbidden substances making him a little light-headed. People dancing in the most disgusting ways, an intense vomit smell floating from the bathroom and sinful sounds coming from the upstairs.

“Don’t worry, Eddie,” Bev told him, taking his hand, “Just stay next to us and nothing’s gonna happen.”

Her gentle touch almost succeeded to calm his nervousness and Richie couldn’t help but laugh at how scared he looked.

“It’s the perfect crime, Eds. You meet our friends, we stick around a few hours and then you come home with me and we sneak into my room. You just have to get out in the morning and your mom will never know you—”

“That I lied to her?” Eddie almost shouted, visibly upset. “That I betrayed her trust? That I went to a party with college people and beer and… weed?”

“Did you hear that, Bev?” Richie said, feigning terror, “There might be _weed_!”

“Oh, no,” Beverly chuckled, “Let’s get out of here.”

They shared a quick laugh and Eddie just wanted to scream.

“Seriously, though, you can leave if you want,” The girl let him know, “We don’t want you to stay if you’re not comfortable.”

“Yeah, Eds, you don’t have to stay if you’re gonna shit in your pants when some guy shows you his dick.”

“Someone’s gonna do that?” Eddie worriedly asked, staring at Beverly.

“No, Richie’s just trying to freak you out. Don’t listen to him. Look, those are my friends.”

She pointed at a group of four or five people who were sitting on a corner sofa. One of the men looked at her and waved his hand. Eddie wondered if they were together, since she and Bill had broken up a few months ago, but soon the girl who was sitting beside him kissed his cheek and he smiled, making obvious she was his girlfriend.

Bev waved back and, in no time, her friends were making room for them to sit. She and Richie sat together and Eddie had to take place on the opposite side of the couch, between a tattooed guy who was clearly drunk and a woman with rainbow hair who wouldn’t stop pinching his cheeks and telling him he was cute. Great, like he hadn’t enough with Richie.

“And who is this?” Tattoo-guy asked, even when the music was too loud to have an actual conversation.

“Oh, that’s our son,” Richie joked, “Eddie.”

“You never told us you guys had a son.”

“We were too young when he was born, so we had to keep it a secret.”

“He has spent his whole life living in the basement. This is the first time he’s been out,” Bev played along.

“That’s why he looks so fucking stunned.”

“Beep, beep, Richie,” Eddie warned him.

But, aside from that weird introduction, college kids seemed to like him. Although they liked him in the way someone would like a funny child, they would even say “he’s so cool”. Every time he opened his mouth to ask about something, everyone would burst in laughter and murmur “typical Eddie” while they shook their heads. And they made him feel like the funniest comedian when Richie offered some kind of brownie and Bev called him out like he was giving a gun to a five-years-old. Of course they were condensing as hell, but at least they wouldn’t bully him like people his age usually did. He understood why Beverly spoke so well of them.

As the night progressed, the situation started to get uncomfortable again. Bev decided to go to dance for a while and left them alone with her friends, but everyone was in their own chat and no one would talk to him anymore. Not even Richie, who, after a few brownies and lots of beer, was more interested in relating with the boy who was sitting next to him. Well, the fully grown-up man who was sitting next to him.

That was the moment when Eddie decided he didn’t like it. He could remember Bev saying something about how he could go home whenever he wanted, so he got up and started walking to the front door. For a second, he looked back, hoping Richie would notice and try to stop him with one of his stupid comments, but it didn’t happen and he concluded looking for his other friend to say goodbye was a better option.

It was hard to walk around the giant living room. Adding to how the dancing couples and the knocked out people would make him stumble every now and then, that disgusting fog kept getting heavier and now it was a mist that wouldn’t let him see anything, let alone find a specific person.

He walked around, calling for Beverly in all the ways he could think of, yelling and tapping on strange redheads’ shoulders, without a hint of where she could be. And he could had keep doing that all night long, but his asthma was breaking through and suddenly gave him the realization he couldn’t breathe. Now he knew his minutes of consciousness were counted if he didn’t get out of that house, and the concept of passing out in a room full of stoned people was scary enough to make it worse.

But where was the exit? The only thing he could recall was where they were sitting before. A claw seemed to be closing around his throat. He didn’t care if Richie would get angry for impeding him from getting into an older guy’s pants, he needed help.

“Sorry, excuse me, I need to…” He apologized to every dancer he bumped into while trying to get to the initial point.

Finally, he did it. Invaded by violent joy, he almost ran to the couch as soon as he saw it in the distance, but as he got closer and more aware of what was happening there, he slowed his steps down until he was completely still.

The whole group had left, excepting Richie’s older guy and Richie himself. The anonymous man had pulled him onto his lap and had his arms wrapped around his waist, smiling at him and murmuring things Eddie couldn’t distinguish. And it looked like Richie couldn’t hear him either, because he wasn’t laughing or joking or responding at all. Instead, he just sat there, eyes clearly red and half-lidded behind his glasses, his whole face flushed and his arms and legs hanging outside the man’s embrace. He was staring without staring at some point in the wall next to them, and he certainly wasn’t in the same time and place that his partner.

Something wasn’t right. Eddie could feel it. More than a year after Richie confessed he was gay, he was almost okay with that. But seeing him in a college student’s lap, completely incapable of providing any kind of consent, was something he couldn’t agree with. And the worst part was that nobody seemed to care. A couple even walked beside the couch and waved at the guy, like he didn’t have a drugged high school boy on top of him.

Then it happened. The damn scumbag took Richie’s face in one hand and kissed him. Hard. So hard that Richie coughed a bit when they separated. Eddie felt like he was ready to kill that idiot, and his mind soon got filled with images of himself calling him out and beating him until he was turning in a pool of his own blood.

However, even scared and angry as he was, Eddie wasn’t stupid. He knew the man was tall and strong enough to murder him if he wanted to, and there was no way he could stop him. Not without help. Now he was sure he had to find Bev at all costs.

So he ran. He ran ignoring all the insults he received as he opened a path by pushing and hustling everyone around. He didn’t care his vision was starting to get blurry and the air was getting more and more charged. He didn’t care about anything.

“Beverly!” He screamed, in the verge of tears, “Bev, Bev! Where are you?!”

But Bev wasn’t anywhere near. And, to make matters worse, his height and the smoke wouldn’t let him see anything but faceless bodies, floating around him like they’d do in Limbo.

“Bev, thank God I found you!” He exclaimed when he found a tall girl with freckles all over her arms and shoulders.

“Sorry, I’m not Bev,” She laughed, still dancing to the hip-hop beat.

“Sorry.”

It happened so many times that Eddie just stood at the center of the dance floor and started screaming her name and asking everyone about her.

“Excuse me, have you seen Bev?”

“No, I don’t know her.”

“Do you know where’s Bev?”

“Who’s Bev?”

“Do you know Beverly Marsh? She’s tall and pretty and has red hair and…”

“Sorry, I don’t know her.”

“But she’s friend with people that live here! How doesn’t anybody know her?!”

Now he was crying. And hyperventilating. Bev had left him alone even when she promised she wouldn’t, and Richie was in danger. And… and the air… there was no air. Where the fuck was his inhaler? He had it… Why wasn’t it in his back pocket? Maybe it had fell.

Eddie dropped to his knees and desperately palmed the floor. Down there, the smell of sweat and vomit was even stronger. There were food scraps and cigarettes butts. He kept calling Bev and felt his right hand landing on a pool of a sticky substance.

_This is it_ , he thought. _I’m gonna die down here. I know I’m gonna die. I’m dying._

“Yours?” Asked a voice from above.

Eddie looked up, but he couldn’t see anything. It had to be God taking him.

“Hey, kid, is it yours?”

An ownerless hand waved in front of his eyes, descending from the murkiness, holding, between its long fingers, an inhaler.

Eddie reached it with his mouth and breathed in like his life depended on it. His mysterious benefactor chuckled.

“Yeah, looks like it is,” He commented to someone who was standing beside him.

After a few inhalations, Eddie let go and the guy gave him the inhaler, still laughing.

“C’mon, kid, get up,” He encouraged him, grabbing him from the arm to help him. “You dropped it and we’ve been chasing you around trying to give it back.”

“Thank you,” Eddie panted.

“You shouldn’t be here if you have asthma. Let’s take you outside, okay?”

All he could was nod when the man put a protective arm around his shoulders and pushed him towards the backdoor. Soon, they were in considerably quieter garden, with the soft summer breeze drawing waves on the water of a big, dirty pool and helping him to breathe again.

Now he could clearly see the guy and the girl who was with him. They were typical, hippie college students, greasy blonde hair and tanned skin. But also, they looked like the kindest and most reliable people Eddie had ever known, with their warm smiles that put wrinkles around their eyes. Martin and Julie were their names and they helped him to sit down on the back steps of the house.

“Feeling better?” Martin said.

“Here,” Julie opened her woven bag and handed him a tissue, “clean your hand.”

Eddie did what he was told and stared at her like she had just saved his life.

“You look kinda young for college.”

Martin chuckled at how nervous he got at the question.

“I’m in high school. I’m fifteen and I shouldn’t be here at all, but my friend knows people from college, so she and my other friend…”

That was when he remembered.

“Richie!” He exclaimed, standing up and feeling the lashes of panic hitting him once more. “Fuck, I forgot! I gotta… Oh my God, I gotta…”

“Wow, wow, calm down, kid,” The man tried to serene him. “What’s happening? What’s wrong?”

“I left… I left him! Shit, I left him and—”

“Breathe,” Julie reminded him.

“My friend Richie is in trouble! He… he was talking to this older guy and he… They were talking, but then… He wasn’t doing well, okay?! He was totally drunk and, and… and high! He couldn’t even speak and… I left him with that guy! That guy’s gonna do something to him, I know! I know he’s gonna—”

“Don’t worry. I’m sure Richie is okay. Maybe he just…”

“No, you don’t get it, he’s a fucking idiot. And he’s fifteen, too. And this guy—”

“Okay,” Martin interrupted. “Okay, we get it, it’s fine. Where did you left him?”

“At the… at the couch… At the couch. I left him at the couch.”

“Then I’m gonna make sure he’s doing well. Just don’t freak out, please.”

Martin walked towards the house and Eddie attempted to follow him.

“It’s better if you stay here,” said Julie. “He can take care of this on his own.”

He obeyed, just because these type of situations always pushed him to listening to anyone who would give him an advice, and sat down again. But, deep inside, he wanted to scream he didn’t need somebody to fight for Richie’s security, that he could do it himself, even if he knew it was a lie.

Although everybody thought the exact opposite, Eddie wasn’t the kind of friend who would run away at the first opportunity when things got heavy. It wasn’t the way his mother raised him, no matter what her real plans for him originally were. Without intending to, she had taught him that he had to do everything necessary to help his beloved ones, and Eddie wanted to do justice to that principle.

Leaving someone else to go to Richie’s rescue didn’t only feel like being a bad friend, but also like he was betraying himself. That was the crucial moment when Eddie found out that nothing, not diseases nor germs, scared him as much as stopping being true to who he was.

Minutes later, Martin returned, and his concerned expression predicted a disaster.

“Couch, you told me, right?”

Eddie nodded, feeling his inhaler through his pocket in search of comfort. Martin and Julie stared at each other, their eyebrows curving. In the middle of the commotion, he had the short-lived thought they looked like a married couple, silently questioning each other about telling their son about a potential divorce.

“Nobody’s there,” Martin confessed, after a few seconds of doubt.

The revelation felt like a stone descending through his esophagus.

“W-what do you mean?” He asked, voice trembling, “What do you mean nobody’s there? They were there, I saw them!”

“Maybe they—” Julie tried to calm him down.

“No! I fucking saw them!” Eddie stood up, heart rate increasing and throat getting tighter with every word. “They were on the couch, Richie was sitting on that douchebag’s lap and then… I… Listen, I know what I saw, okay? I’m not fucking crazy. And it was just…” He realized he didn’t actually know how much time had passed. “Okay, maybe it’s been a while but… Where could…”

“Kid, please, relax,” Martin begged, “You’re getting too upset, that’s not good for you asthma. Just—”

“No, no, fuck you! Don’t tell me what’s good or not for my asthma. I don’t care about my fucking asthma, I just want my friend—”

“I know you wanna protect your friend, but you gotta think ‘bout your health, too. You were in a crisis when we found you.”

“I’m gonna get into a fucking crisis if you don’t let me in and get my friend out, okay?!”

Understanding Eddie wouldn’t give up on this, Martin finally agreed to walk inside the house with him. Even when the sight of the empty couch was expected, Eddie couldn’t help but freak out at the fact Richie was missing.

The air was still contaminated and his lungs were still weak, but invaded by a sudden bravery, he paid it no mind at all. He just ran, even leaving Martin behind a few times, bumping into people again and ignoring all the yelling that came after, screaming Richie’s name and feeling fully capable of breaking a random guy’s jaw because he asked him if he was looking for his boyfriend in a mocking tone.

He stepped into the fetid kitchen, crowded by horny couples kissing and grabbing on every surface they could find to make out. Seeing so many people being this sexual only increased his fear of what could be happening to Richie as he stood there, not knowing where to go or how to help him.

Later, he almost fell down stairs in his hurry for getting to the second floor. An endless corridor with seemingly infinite doors on its two walls opened in front of him. All he could heard was the muffled sounds of the party and his own and Martin’s steps as they rushed through the aisle, examining every place they could think of.

Eddie opened a random door and found a couple about to get rid of their clothes on a bathroom’s counter. He apologized to the angry guy while covering his eyes and leaving them alone. Then, he checked on a closet with the same result. And a bedroom where there wasn't just two people, but four. And another one where a girl was masturbating while watching someone who seemed to be her boyfriend going down on another woman. And another one with a threesome in it.

At some point, he couldn’t take it anymore and started to knock before entering. He ran down the corridor, thrusting his fit to everything he could reach, and only felt asthma reaching out its ugly head when he remembered he was supposed to feel sick.

But it didn’t matter anymore, because his primal feeling right now was disgust. He felt disgusted and enraged. Everything was about sex. Everything he could look at in that house from hell was about sex. It was everywhere. It didn’t care that it was the last thing he wanted to think about. It just wanted to take its victims without any consideration, and Richie was a part of its plan. Sex was the greediest monster Eddie could think about and, the horrible detail about it, was that people glorified it as it was some kind of god for them.

The doors seemed to never reach an end. It was like they got automatically generated by an evil simulation, designed for driving him insane.

“Richie, Richie, Richie!” He kept repeating. “Please! Where are you? Richie Tozier! Trashmouth! Richie!”

Somehow, he was aware of how useless it was. Richie was practically sedated and he couldn’t answer even if he heard him. Even if he was behind the door he was resting his back against, trying to recover his breath so he could keep searching.

A group of girls got out the door in front of him, presumably another bathroom. They were talking and laughing, all of them with the same annoying, superficial voice. He had to ask them, but he couldn’t talk anymore. He had lost all strength.

He stared at them as they walked away, frantically trying to get a word out of his mouth. And before they were completely gone, Martin appeared, altered but still in his cabals, and asked them himself.

“Sorry, have you seen Richie?”

The girls giggled and one of them decided to talk, chewing on a pink bubblegum.

“Don’t know. How does he look like?”

Martin looked at Eddie.

“How does he look like, kid?”

This was it. He had to say something. It was his last chance.

“He’s… he’s tall,” He forcedly gasped, “And… and he wears glasses and… and an ugly shirt, and he’s so fucking stupid, and he…” As he spoke, his body began to slide downwards, until he was sitting on the floor, hugging his legs with watery eyes. “And he… he’s… I can’t… I can’t breathe…”

The girls exchanged glances of confusions and the leader shook her head. Soon, they were gone and Martin was on his knees, trying to get a reaction from him.

“Okay, use your inhaler, in and out, in and out…”

Eddie conveyed and, after a minute or two, his lungs were working correctly. But he still couldn’t stop crying and, if he kept doing so, he would get another attack.

“Look,” Martin started, “I really think you should go home now.”

Eddie’s eyes opened wide.

“Go home? I… No, I can’t… I gotta—”

“I know you’re worried, but you’re gonna pass out and get in lots of trouble for being here when you wake up in a hospital room. You won’t find Richie while you’re like this.”

“What I’m gonna do, then?” He sobbed.

“I’ll take you home in my truck and then come back so Julie and I can keep looking for him, okay? Going home it’s the best thing you can do.”

“But… but it’ll be too late.”

“I don’t wanna scare you, I know it’s a shitty thing to say right now, but if what you think is happening is actually happening, it’s probably too late already.”

“Oh, no…” He started rocking back and front. “Fuck, no. Fuck, no. Fuck, fuck, fuck!”

“Shhh, I know, sorry. But I promise I’ll do my best to stop it. All you gotta do is go home. Please.”

Eddie considered it.

“The sooner you say yes, the sooner I’ll come back to keep searching.”

And that was it. Martin got up and helped Eddie to do the same. Minutes later, after telling Julie her boyfriend was leaving for a while, both of them were inside his green, old truck, heading towards Eddie’s house.

“We’re here,” Martin announced, stopping the vehicle next to the sidewalk.

Eddie didn’t react immediately. He had spent the whole trip looking through the window, his forehead against the glass, so focused in keeping the rhythm of his breath that the fear for Richie was barely in his mind’s grasp. In consequence, Martin’s voice made him jump, die, and resurrect, all at the same time.

“Sorry?” He breathlessly asked.

“That’s your house, isn’t it?”

Eddie looked through the window again and saw it. His own home as the castle of a beast that could eat him alive if he stepped on the wrong tile.

“Oh, yeah, that’s my house,” He confirmed.

“Well, good luck, kid,” Martin gave him a pat on the shoulder, “And don’t worry. Gonna find him and take him home, okay? Trust me?”

He did trust him. He trusted him more that he had ever trusted anyone. Moreover, he felt like he was the only person he could trust right now. Even if they just met, Martin had shown so much care for him and a guy he didn’t know, that Eddie was beginning to think there wasn’t a place in the world for people like him. People who still tried to survive in a society full of “let them be,” “boys will be boys,” “they can take care of themselves.”

Eddie realized he, his mother, and Martin were the same kind of person. They were born to look after the others. They were natural protectors. And knowing his mother wasn’t the only caring, reliable human being on the planet was such a comforting feeling, that an intense joy made itself out of the desperation and anxiety.

When he opened his eyes after a particularly long blink, he found out his lips were pressing against Martin’s. But more than being disgusted by the contact itself, he just felt sick thinking about how disgusted Martin should’ve been feeling and how he was betraying Richie by doing something like that while he was suffering. So he quickly drew back and started to mutter every apologize he could think of.

“Hey, it’s fine,” Martin interrupted, “I get it, you didn’t mean to. You’re just worried about him.”

“Yes,” He immediately said, too enthusiastic, “Yeah, that’s it. Sorry, I’m… I’m not okay. It was a disgusting thing to do and—”

“You should go. I need to go back—”

“Right! Right, yeah, I should…” He opened the truck’s door and got out, “Thanks, really. Thanks.”

“You’re welcome, kid. Try to get some sleep.”

Martin drove away and that was the last time Eddie ever saw him. He climbed through his bedroom’s window, since his mother thought he was at a sleepover and didn’t expect him to be back so soon. And he knew, as soon as he remembered that Richie would always sneak into his house that same way, that he wouldn’t sleep at all.

* * *

 

Richie and Beverly reappeared two days later. The morning after the party, Eddie rode his bike to Richie’s house, hoping to find him safe, happy and stupid, like always. Instead, he met Mr. Tozier, with his stern eyes and his stereotypical dad looks, who with polite suspicion told him that “Richard said he would spend the entire weekend at the Uris house.” Eddie pretended Richie had mentioned something about that but he had forgotten, and left.

When he tried his luck at Bev’s place, he didn’t get any good results either. Her aunt said something about her going for a one weekend vacation with a nice group of female friends from her class. It was obviously a lie, too, but Eddie sat there, listening to the excited lady talking about “Hillary, who wanted to go to Harvard and was a passionate reader,” and “Vicky, and her love for classical music,” and “Sabrina, who was so excited to find a good husband when she was older.” If she needed to believe all those girls actually existed, he wasn’t the one to break her bubble. It was better than the truth, anyway.

He couldn’t sleep well for the next two nights. The other Losers found him stressed and tired, but no one could get him to talk about it. Their wondering about the absence of two of their friends limited to assume they were probably sick, and the word went harsh and uneasy through Eddie’s throat every time he had to say “yeah, they must be sick.”

Fortunately, next Monday, when the club was rejoicing in the fact they could just lay under the sun and do nothing, Richie and Beverly emerged from the dense amount of trees that surrounded the quarry, like everything was fine and they were never gone.

“Hey, fuckers,” Richie announced his presence, raising a casual hand.

Not paying him more attention than they thought was necessary, Bill, Stan and Mike stood up and went to say hi. Ben, on the contrary, immediately ran to talk with Bev. Eddie also left his seat —the log when Richie and him would usually sit together—, but he decided to stay still, carefully looking for any indication that something bad had happened.

“Stan!” Richie exclaimed, playing with his friend’s curls and earning a few insults from him, “Stan the man, Jew with the plan… How are ya doing, huh? Missed me too much?”

There was a certain effort in his speech. It didn’t sound natural, but like someone trying to look cool and relaxed so they could get along with the cool, relaxed kids.

“Why did you two disappear?” Mike questioned, “Were you—?”

“Your suspects are right, my fellas. Miss Marsh and I got severely sick after staying out in the rain for too long and spent the whole weekend boring to death. Am I right, Bev?”

He turned his head towards her, who was standing a couple feet behind, hands in her pockets and eyes on the ground. Richie loudly cleared his throat to get her to look at him, and only then she gave a little jump and nervously nodded.

“Yeah, it was a good rain, though.”

“Like hell it was,” Richie smiled with pride.

Then he continued to tell his usual, ridiculous jokes and annoy everyone in every way possible. And nobody questioned. That was the way things were supposed to be.

But Eddie wasn’t that sure. What Richie and Beverly were doing didn’t seem organic for him. Anybody else would say they were being their habitual selves, but all Eddie could see were two terrible actors declaiming their lines with such faked passion, it was a slap in the face of theater in general.

Since Richie came out the last year, Eddie and him wouldn’t get really close anymore, but the way he literally rejected the chance to sit next to him and decided go with Bev was beyond knowing his boundaries. It was like Richie and Beverly couldn’t spend a second separated, and even as best friends, it wasn’t the way they regularly showed their affection. More than affinity, it looked like a persistent urgency to be close.

She would constantly look at him whenever someone said something, be it him or not. She would even intertwine their fingers like a mother afraid of losing her child in the crowd, and every time Richie tried to move his hand, she went further and basically wrap her arms around his.

Later that day, when the Losers decided to go to the park, Richie announced he and Bill would go to get some ice cream, and Beverly insisted that she should go with them.

“Shit, I know you can’t live without me ‘cause you’re so in love with me, but chill out,” Richie laughed as the three of them walked away to the ice cream truck, but the joke sounded like all the ‘funny’ comments he had been telling the whole day: fake.

After a couple of hours, with the sun coming down and the promise of getting home early established, it was time to say goodbye. And when they made it to their bikes and everyone was ready to leave, Ben secretly asked Eddie if Beverly was doing okay.

“Do you think she’s dating Richie?” He whispered.

Eddie looked at them. Richie was mounting his bicycle and Bev reached out her arm a bit, maybe trying to make sure he wouldn’t fall. The image they were giving was still a very maternal one.

“No, I don’t think so,” He replied, “I don’t think Richie is dating anyone.”

Ben tilted his head, confused.

“And Bev?” He insisted.

“I don’t think she’s dating anyone, either.”

“Okay.” He left out a relieved sigh.

Even if it was enough for Ben, it wasn’t enough for Eddie. He needed to know what was happening, he needed to know if Richie was okay. Of course he was concerned about the way Beverly was acting, too, but nobody seemed to notice how mechanical and false was everything Richie said or did, and he was more worried about that right now. He had to make sure, so he asked.

“Richie,” He called out.

Both Richie and Bev got tense at the mention of his name.

“What?” He said.

Eddie knew he had to choose his words wisely.

“How are… How is your cold? Are you… are you sure you’re feeling better? You don’t think you have to stay in bed for a while or—”

Richie exasperatedly sighed.

“Fuck, dude, what are you? My mom? I’m fucking fine. You think I’d be here if I wasn’t?”

Everybody stared at the others, surprised of the aggressiveness of his answer. Beverly had her hands in her back pockets and her eyes on the ground.

“Beep, beep, Richie,” Stan intervened.

“Y-yeah, beep, beep,” Bill agreed, clearly offended by the way he was speaking to his friend.

“What the fuck is your problem?” Eddie said, indignantly, “I was just—”

“Looking out for me? I don’t need a babysitter, Eds,” Richie replied, “I already said I was fine. Why are you so obsessed with me? Are you gay for me or something?”

“Y-you don’t t-t-talk to him like tha-at, R-Richie!” Bill threatened, pointing at him, his face reddened with range.

“Why? You’re his boyfriend?” He mocked.

Bill was ready to jump at him and take the fight to a physical place, but Mike got in the middle just in time to stop it.

“Okay, can you two please calm down?” He seriously requested.

“H-he owes E-Eddie a fucking apology!” Bill yelled.

“You and your boyfriend can suck my dick!” Richie shouted, grabbing his crotch in an offensive gesture, “I bet you’d enjoy it, anyway.”

“Shut the fuck up, Richie!” Someone snapped.

All eyes posed on Eddie, who was fully infuriated at this point.

“You’re full of shit!” He continued, “I care for people, does that makes me gay? ‘Cause last time I checked…” He stopped and thought again, “Just… argh, fuck you, okay?! I’m so done with your bullshit. You’re so fucking careless, that’s probably how you caught your cold in the first place!”

“That’s it,” Beverly suddenly decided, getting the attention to her half-broken voice, “I’m leaving. Talk to you later, Rich.”

She kissed her best friend’s cheek and took her bike. She didn’t mount it, but she just started walking away with it rolling besides her.

“Bev, wait!” Ben said, running after her, ignoring how she was feeling or why but willing to help.

Richie stood there, frozen, his eyes bigger than ever without that having much to do with his magnifying glasses. Every second of silence seemed to add another eternity in hell for Eddie’s condemnation.

Finally, after almost a minute, Richie’s face turned into a spiteful frown. He stared deep into Eddie’s eyes, and no one had ever seen so much hate in his gaze before. Then, he looked between all of his friends and shrugged.

“I’m going home, too,” He said, “See you later, assholes.”

And rode his bike away. Eddie could tell the last insult sounded more like a sob, but Bill simply rolled his eyes and told him to pay him no mind.

“H-he’s just be-being an idiot.”

That was the end of discussion.

* * *

 

No one ever mentioned the incident again. The next day, everyone met at the quarry and spent their afternoon without any alteration. Richie’s speech seemed a bit more convincing and Beverly gave him a bit more of space.

The seven of them joked and laughed and enjoyed the nice weather, like nothing happened. But, in a certain moment, Richie’s and Eddie’s eyes met. Their glances got intertwined and they both went silent for a few seconds. Then, Richie raised his hand and did their secret signal, putting his finger against his lips.

He waited, expecting Eddie to do the same. Soon or later, he would do the same. He always did.

Eddie didn’t do it this time. Or the next. Or the one after the next. He understood now the implications of that promise, he was aware of how much any of them could get hurt by it. Even when he would keep it, he wouldn’t act like he could agree to it again. And Richie nodded, because he understood, too.

It was asking too much, and he should’ve had known it. He should’ve had known better than to ask for too much from Eddie.


	3. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, everyone! I'm sorry for the long wait. My beta reader is dealing with lots of personal problems and they won't be able to help for a while, but this time, the amazing http://aizeninlefox.tumblr.com/ offered to enlight me and they did an equally amazing job. The warnings for this chapter are Internalized Homophobia and mention of sexual abuse, like usually, and there's also some Benverly and Bill/Audra. Even though I love Stenbrough, Stalon, Bill/Mike (sorry, I forgot the name for that ship) and all of their variations, I thought that this story in particular could be developed in a better way if Richie and Eddie were the only LGBT+ Losers. I know it's obviously possible to have 5 LGBT+ people in a group of seven, but Whatever Floats Your Boat needed that bit of heteronormativity that I'm always trying to avoid. I didn't tag the side ships because I wouldn't like to get the Benverly tags, for example, full of Reddie fanfics, but I'll warn you every time another couple gets mentioned. I don't want no one to feel uncomfortable. As always, I hope you enjoy this chapter and I'll be waiting faithfully for all of your comments!

**Chapter 2**

Derry, Maine; 1994.

In their last year of high school, Richie started dating someone. It surprised a lot of people, but not Eddie. He knew it wasn’t the first time something like this had happened.

A year ago, Richie went to a summer camp that would help him to improve his grades and capacity of learning. His parents decided to send him when they found out he wasn’t doing well in school anymore, and not even remedial classes would fix the situation.

Richie, of course, hated that solution. He spent his last days of freedom complaining about it, responding to everything with insults and rejecting any kind of condolence for his lost vacations.

But the funny thing was that when he came back he didn’t seem angry at all. In fact, he looked satisfied with the turn things had taken. The Losers interrogated him about it, and he just shrugged and said there were some hot girls and all of the campers went to swim together in a lake when it was free time. The only one who knew the true explanation for his joy was Eddie.

For the first time in years, Richie snuck into his room at night to have a private chat. Eddie immediately got stiff, fearing the worst. Richie’s gladness should have been a good indication, but it was two in the morning and he was too sleepy and nervous to understand.

“Okay, Eds, I know this is all so disgusting and traumatic for you, but I got to tell someone,” Richie’s voice sounded fast and excited as he walked around the room, incapable of sitting down.

“Can’t it wait?” Eddie drowsily asked, rubbing his eye.

“Hell, no. I went to Bev first and she told me to go to sleep.”

“Bev is a wise woman, you should listen to her,” He muttered, getting into bed again and pulling the blanket over his body, including his head.

“Come on, Eds, don’t you wanna hear about my summer romance?”

Eddie exhaled a bitter laugh.

“You? Romance? One of those girls who swam in the lake, I guess.”

“Nah, a super-hot guy.”

That was all it took for Eddie to get out of his cave of sheets. At the mere sound of the words, he quickly sat up and looked at him with a death stare.

“What the fuck?”

Richie’s chest inflated with pride.

“Yep,” He confirmed, casually exanimating his nails, “A super-hot guy who was basically begging for my—”

“And you were planning to tell Bev?!” Eddie snapped, doing nothing to hide his angriness, “What the hell is wrong with you?”

All the arrogance in Richie vanished. Now he looked confused and vaguely embarrassed.

“She’s…” He started, his voice fighting for leaving his throat, “She’s my friend, Eddie.”

“And what about me? I’m not your friend? I don’t have any say about… this?”

He left bed again and walked towards Richie, whose eyes were opened wide in complete confusion. It almost hurt seeing him taking a step back when they were face to face, as he was scared of Eddie injuring him.

“This is not some silly game, Richie. This is not something you wear in your forehead like it’s something you’re… proud about. It’s your future, your health, your whole life.”

“I can trust Bev.”

“You can’t trust her about everything. In fact, you shouldn’t trust anyone about this. Not even me.”

Richie looked in the verge of tears for a few seconds. A brief tremble of his lower lip wouldn’t let him pretend he didn’t care, like he always did. But nothing happened. He just stared into Eddie’s eyes like he did the Monday after the college party, thickened his skin and acted.

“You’re right,” Now his voice was more like the straight line in a monitor that announces the death of a patient, “I shouldn’t have trusted you.”

Then, he started walking to the open window, so decisive Eddie thought nothing could stop him. However, he did stop at the last minute.

“And for your information,” He said, turning back in Eddie’s direction, “I wasn’t going to tell Bev it was a guy. Don’t worry, no one knows your best friend is a faggot.”

After that, he initiated his already dominated descent through Eddie’s house façade.

“Wait!” Eddie called out, trying to not being too loud, sticking his head through the window, “I didn’t mean it like that.”

Richie ignored him.

“Come on, you know I didn’t mean it like that!”

“No, Eds,” Richie finally answered, looking up at him, “I don’t know. Fuck you.”

Eddie felt panic getting its way into his chest.

“I’m sorry, Richie! I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be an asshole. Please, come back. Please tell me about that… super-hot guy.”

“You don’t wanna hear it, trust me,” He said, getting his feet on the ground and walking towards his bike, “We spent the whole summer sucking each other’s dick.”

Eddie choked, trying to resist the urgency of puking. Richie left.

* * *

 

Even if their first try to openly talk about Richie’s romantic life failed, Eddie got the chance to properly apologize and Richie, in a less emotional mental state, paid the incident no mind and agreed to talk about it when they got to meet without the rest of the Losers.

It turned out it wasn’t as simple as a ‘whole summer sucking each other’s dick’. The super-hot guy had a name and Richie found himself repeating it a lot more than necessary. He couldn’t disguise that little glitter in his eyes every time he mentioned it.

“So, his name was Jake and he wasn’t just hot.”

“He wasn’t?”

“No, I mean, yeah, he was hot. But he was also super funny. Like, the funniest dude I ever met? I know it’s hard to imagine a guy who’s funnier than me, but…”

“I can imagine it.”

“Mean.”

“Go on.”

“Right. And he was tall. He said he was in the basketball team of his school and his mother sent him to the camp ‘cause his grades sucked and the coach was going to kick him out if they didn’t get better.”

Richie went on and on about Jake and how much they kissed every time they could be all alone. And what an amazing kisser he was. And he gave the best blowjobs in the world. And you don’t know how Heaven looks like until Jake Parker gets his hand inside your pants.

“Will you ever see him again?” Eddie asked when he was done. It wasn’t the kind of question a good friend dreamily brings up when you meet someone new, but a nasty challenge to look at him in the eye and say his little summer fling meant something for the other guy, too.

“He told me he’d call me when he got home,” Richie said, not very convinced, “He’s from Portland, so…”

Eddie felt guilty for seeding that doubt on his mind.

“It’s been two weeks, Rich,” He gently commented, putting a hand on his shoulder.

Richie nodded.

“I know.”

Of course he knew. He wasn’t stupid. And Eddie wasn’t stupid, either. All he could do was keep rubbing comforting circles into his friend’s shoulder and respecting his silence.

Jake never called back.

* * *

 

Although it didn’t end well, none of them could deny it was serious. Before that, Eddie couldn’t imagine Richie actually liking someone. He wasn’t exactly the kind of person who would give up his eternal childhood to satisfy all the expectative of a formal relationship. Sure, he was capable of wanting —his whole summer was about oral sex, anyway—, but the deep desire of being with someone didn’t seem like something he could feel.

Jake proved Eddie wrong. Richie had feelings just like anyone. The kind of feelings you would expect from any teenager. Eddie realized he never stopped seeing Richie as the sarcastic, dirty kid he grew up with. He also found out that hearing him talking about how he wanted to get into somebody’s pants, didn’t feel as shocking and wrong as picturing him wanting to wrap his arms around a waist from behind and resting his chin on a shoulder.

What was Richie’s type, anyway? Did he really had a type? What made Jake different from all the boys he had met in his life? How could Richie like someone who was funnier than him? Wouldn’t he feel humiliated? Or was it all because Jake was tall? Did Richie like basketball players? If Richie met another guy who was funny and tall and a good kisser, would he fall again?

Eddie didn’t mean to ask himself all of these questions, but he couldn’t help but think about them every time he tried to close his eyes and sleep. The only conclusion he got from all this wondering was that Richie’s type was a guy. Simple as that. That was the secret.

So Richie dating someone a year after wouldn’t be that alarming. Except for the fact that that someone was a girl.

Nobody knew when it started. Richie was very private about it and not even Beverly was aware of his relationship. But most of them noticed weird things before it was made public.

The first signal was when they were standing in the line of the cafeteria and a group of girls stopped behind them. At the start, they didn’t paid them no mind, but after a short time, they heard them giggling.

Although it was obvious they were trying to hide their amusement, they weren’t doing a good job and soon their voices turned into a choir of hysterical and poorly controlled laughs.

“There,” One of them whispered, “The one in glasses.”

“Oh, my God,” Another one giggled.

“Shut up, you idiots,” Said a third girl, even if she was taking part of the fun.

Eddie felt his blood burning. It wasn’t unusual for them being the brunt of constant jokes, but there wasn’t anything subtle about the way those girls were acting. For all he knew, they may very well be sharing those stupid rumors about Richie and Bev, and they didn’t care about respect enough for trying to be more discrete.

All of the Losers noticed too. Mike turned around and gave them a serious, but yet sympathetic look.

“You need something?” He asked.

The girls stared between the others and giggled again. The taller one dared to answer.

“No, we’re fine, thank you.”

Mike solemnly nodded and took his tray, ready to go and find a table. Now Richie was closer to the group, too focused on choosing his dessert for notice the way he seemed to be the topic of their conversation.

Eddie quietly observed how one of the girls pointed at Richie, while her gaze travelled to the opposite side of the room. To a particular table. She smiled and winked, as her friends kept laughing.

He tried to see who was the receiving of the comment, but his short stature and how the cafeteria was full of people and the line was moving didn’t allow him to find out.

“Eds,” Richie, who had already made his decision, was standing a few feet away with his tray and an impatient look, “Are you gonna stand there the whole lunch or what?”

Eddie looked at the girls again. Now they looked serious and quiet, like they didn’t even know each other. He turned back to Richie.

“Shut the fuck up,” He said, taking his own tray and hurrying to follow him.

* * *

 

It happened again a few times. Those girls couldn’t be around them without whispering that secret joke that had something to do with Richie. And it soon extended to a couple of people who haven’t even noticed his existence before.

A certain day, it reached an unexpected height when the Losers were standing next to Ben’s locker, waiting for him to get all of his books, and one of these out-of-nowhere laughers and her friends walked besides them and stared directly at Richie.

“Hi, Romeo,” She casually said, gaining more giggles and even some ‘oh, my God, you really said that’ from the rest of the group.

“What was that?” Stan frowned in confusion once they had left.

Everybody turned at Richie, silently interrogating him. He limited to shrug.

“How am I supposed to know?” He replied, glowering, “Maybe they just find me that hot.”

He shrugged again. They were planning to keep digging for an actual answer, but Ben got the rest of his books just in time and they didn’t have any option but to head to their classrooms.

Eddie told himself to forget about the whole thing. Even though he knew it was stupid, he couldn’t stop turning it over in his head. Definitely, those girls didn’t want Richie. There wasn’t any flirting intention to the way they talked to him. It was more like a mockery. But why would they do that? Richie wasn’t attractive at all and that never been a secret. Why would they wait so long for start making fun of him for not having dates?

The answer came sooner than later. As he walked to his classroom, he realized Richie and Bev were going in the same direction, just a few steps behind. And they were talking.

“Are you sure that’s it?” She said, a knowing smile audible in her tone.

“Yeah, why not? It’s a very natural reaction,” He responded.

Beverly stayed quiet for a few seconds.

“Fuck, what is this? The Holy Inquisition? I don’t know!” Richie kept defending himself.

“Oh, well, I thought you may have an idea…”

“What are you implying?”

“You see, I saw the most interesting thing today…” Her voice revealed pure evilness.

“And what was that?” Richie sounded plainly exasperated at this point.

Beverly took her time to let air fill her lungs before exhaling the magic spell.

“Fran Cobb.”

Eddie got tense at the mention of the name, and he could feel Richie also got tense behind him. He didn’t recognize who Fran Cobb was, but such a powerful energy emerged from the only implication of her existence that he felt immediately overwhelmed by it.

He suddenly understood how private this conversation was, how full of meaning it was getting, and he realized he shouldn’t be listening. But he couldn’t un-hear it. He just couldn’t. He had to know what was so interesting, so important about that mysterious presence in Richie’s life. So he slowed his steps down just enough to get closer to his friends without them noticing it.

“What about her?” Richie questioned.

_ Yeah _ , Eddie thought.  _ What about her? _

“Nothing special,” Bev continued, “I just sat behind her at Biology today and, I could almost swear, she was wearing an… oversized Hawaiian shirt?”

Eddie heard Richie gulping.

“A woman with good taste,” He casually replied.

“That’s what I thought,” Beverly chuckled, “By the way, where’s your shirt?”

“I didn’t wear a shirt today.”

“Richard…”

“What?”

“Nothing,” She sighed, carefree, “Romeo.”

Then, she speed her walking up and passed by Eddie’s side, giving him a side smile. He hurried to pretend he was tying his shoes and barely reached to see Richie half-running and half-waddling to follow his best friend, ignoring him and mumbling excuses for the fact that Fran Cobb, whoever she was, was indeed wearing his shirt.

* * *

 

Richie didn’t say a word until two weeks later. Two weeks full of cancelled plans of hanging out or doing something together, coming up with lots of explanations that seemed to get more and more ridiculous as they days passed by. Two weeks of the question of ‘what were you doing the other day?’ going vaguely answered or practically ignored. Two weeks of getting extra suspicious every time Bill talked about Audra, the girl he was dating.

But it all had to come to an end and, when it happened, it wasn’t Eddie or Beverly who were informed first. For some reason, Richie decided to trust Ben about what was going on. Or, in better words, he had no other option.

Noticing how weird Richie was acting recently, Ben managed to meet him alone and have a heart-to-heart talk. He wasn’t pressuring him or forcing him to open up, he just wanted to make sure his friend was doing well, and it surprised him to find out Richie needed to be honest about the matter more than anything.

Nobody knew what was said in that conversation, but it proved to be very effective because, two days later, Richie sat at their habitual table at the cafeteria and formally announced it.

“So,” He started, pretending to be focused on his piece of chicken, “You know Fran Cobb?”

All of the Losers considered the name for a little while, except Eddie, who didn’t feel comfortable with thinking about it, and Bev, who looked ready to burst out laughing.

“I-isn’t she in th-the D-Drama Club?” Bill ventured to guess, “A-Audra had mentio-mentioned her a f-few times.”

“Yeah,” Richie confirmed, so quickly it was clear he was nervous, “Yeah, she is.”

“Cool, so, what about her?” Stan asked.

Richie left out a sigh, as he was preparing to speak in public for the first time in front a crowd of a thousand people.

“Well,” He started, “I mean, don’t get super… It’s no big deal, just…”

“They’re dating,” Bev interrupted, rolling her eyes.

Their friends stayed in silence, looking between the others in search of a hint this was a bizarre dream, as Richie’s face turned red. He almost dropped his fork and hurried to recover his hold of it before it fell.

“No,” He instantaneously said, “Not exactly. I mean, I don’t know, it’s not…” The confusion in everyone’s faces told him he needed to explain himself better, “Nobody said the word ‘dating’, we’re just… We haven’t fucked yet, but we do kiss and go out and…”

“ _ Date _ ,” Beverly whispered, like it was some kind of big epiphany.

“Is she deaf?” Stan joked.

“Fuck you, Stanley,” Richie bitterly answered.

“Well, as long as you’re happy, I’m happy for you,” Mike smiled.

“W-when will you intro-introduce us?” Bill enquired with kind curiosity.

“Shit, I don’t know, Big Bill,” His friend teased, “Like, she thinks I’m so cool and amazing and hot. What would she think if she knew I hang out with a bunch of losers?”

All of them laughed, even if Eddie didn’t find the joke that funny.

“Our little boy is growing up,” Bev said in a high-pitched voice, putting her arms around Richie and shaking him a bit.

“Sorry, Marsh,” He smirked, “I know you’re disappointed, but you’ll find a man for you someday,” He brought the fork to his lips and didn’t bother to swallow the food before adding, “Hanscom, for example, is still single.”

Now it was Ben’s time to blush, but the topic didn’t stay around enough for it to become a problem. Eddie imagined Richie and Ben talking about their crushes, about how stunning the girls they liked were, as they were best friends, as Ben had the right to know before anyone what was going on. As Richie was straight.

At the end, no one talked about meeting his girlfriend for a while. They just started excusing him when he couldn’t be with them and moved on. Eddie felt stupid for not being able to ignore it, like everybody else did.

* * *

 

His mother always said love could save almost anyone. She always talked about how beneficial finding a good wife could be for men who dealt with ‘deviations’. When he was a kid, every time he complained about people making fun of him for being too small or too weak, she would say the he’d grow up and find someone who allowed him to be normal, to be  _ healthy _ . Of course she realized her mistake a few years later and changed to the ‘I’m the only person who loves you’ tactic, but Eddie knew what the truth was.

However, he felt inexplicably betrayed by Richie’s change of heart about his sexuality and how he was managing it. It wasn’t like he would have enjoyed listening, but at least an effort for talking to him about it first would have been appreciated. It felt almost like an insult that Richie wouldn’t mind to tell him about his blowjob summer with all the dirty details, and still he didn’t trust him enough to let him know he had a girlfriend.

After all the trouble they went through, after the 3:00 AM talks, even after the college party —as rude and hurtful it was to think about that right now—, finding out Richie was forgetting all of that just for a girl seemed unfair. Eddie couldn’t un-hear his sobs, Eddie couldn’t retire that hug when they were fourteen, Eddie couldn’t forget the gentle pressure of that college guy’s lips against his own, and he couldn’t forgive himself for not even remembering his name when he saved him from hell itself.

Richie was getting over everything. No matter how hard life hit him, he would always fall in his two feet,  _ like a fucking, lucky cat _ . He didn’t have to face consequences, he didn’t have to take responsibilities for the choices he made. He could always take it all back and move on, and no one would ever say anything. Nobody cared. Eddie was the only one who did. Even Beverly was worried for just a few days after the party incident, when that was still everything Eddie could think about three years later.

He shouldn’t care about Richie. Richie didn’t need anyone to protect him. Everything was a reversible joke for him, an endless comedy show that went from one act to another burning the ones that stayed behind. The rest of the Losers knew, and Eddie had to learn it, too.

But he couldn’t. Not caring wasn’t in his nature. And, most of all, he felt curious. If it was true that the perfect girl could save the sickest man alive, he needed to know who could be the perfect girl for Richie. So he grabbed his yearbook, flipped through the pages until he was at the Drama Club part and started searching in the photographs.

The only faces he could recognize were Audra’s and the insufferable group of people who would giggle whenever they saw Richie. It was obvious they were Fran’s friends and they knew she was seeing him. Eddie frowned at the thought of Richie’s girlfriend divulging their relationship while he was clearly not ready to make it public.

The central picture showed the whole club sitting at the stands of the football camp, around the old, bohemian woman who was their teacher. Eddie quickly examined the list of names and it didn’t take him too long to find the name that still managed to make his stomach turn.  _ Francine Cobb _ . She was sitting at the first row, only two seats away from the teacher.

He was nearly disappointed. She wasn’t ugly, not at all, but she also didn’t look like the kind of girl who would have Richie going crazy for her. Even though the blonde, wavy hair falling over the shoulders was considered attractive most of the time, hers looked grungy in a very Courtney Love-style that he didn’t find nice. Her pale face seemed too round and childish, even when her features weren’t unappealing, and her full lips felt like almost too much, just like Richie’s did.

In addition, her figure couldn’t decide between growing up into a woman’s body or stick to childhood. Respectable breasts raised under the dimer overall —‘typical cool kid clothes’, Eddie cynically thought—, but she didn’t have an actual, defined shape aside them. Her legs and arms seemed too long for the rest of her constitution and the way she sat, slightly arching her back, gave her a funny appearance.

If Eddie was confused before, he was definitely astonished now. The other pictures showed Fran as a very joyful person, always smiling in that open way that built winkles around her eyes, always throwing her head back when she laughed, always sitting in the floor with her legs crossed or taking the stage to make everyone cackle.

What did Richie see in her? He was so disgusted by girls like this when he was younger. Girls who worked so hard for being funny, and to fit in. Actually, he was disgusted by any kind of girl who wasn’t opening her legs in the centerfold of a dirty magazine. And those girl didn’t exist in the real world.

But there was Fran. The girl from the Drama Club. The girl who had hobbies and went to school with them. The girl who laughed out loud and showed emotions aside of pretending to be turned on by a camera. She had a name, a house in their town, and a personality. She was a complete human being. And she was Richie’s girlfriend.

Eddie felt sad for her and didn’t know why. He hoped Richie would never introduce them, because he knew that as soon as he was were face to face with her, he couldn’t hide it anymore. And he didn’t know what he was hiding, either. All he could tell was that he felt sad, disappointed.

He felt betrayed.   
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's it for now. The no return point. In the next chapter, we meet Richie's girlfriend. I hope you're enjoying how things are running out (it'll be a very harsh roadtrip) and remember you can follow me, stalk me and talk to me on Tumblr. takealottodragmeawayfromreddie is my url and making weird Reddie memes is my game. Please talk to me, I'm extremely alone c: Love y'all and see you next time! <3
> 
> FAQ:
> 
> When will you let the boys be happy and healthy and in peace with themselves?
> 
> Not very soon :')

**Author's Note:**

> And that's all for now. I really hope you enjoyed and you can always pay a visit to my tumblr takealottodragmeawayfromreddie.tumblr.com, where I'll be posting updates and you can ask to be added to the taglist. Also, I don't have a good way with words in english, so a friend helped me correcting it. Shout out to that amazing person! :D
> 
> See you in the next update, y'all. I'll be glad to have you around for a while if you want to stay <3


End file.
